


He's a Little Fellow, Four Foot Tall

by SoU2019



Series: Royed OTPoly 2020 SoU [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Ed is 21, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Misunderstandings, One Night Stands, Pining, Road Trip, Song fic, tropy af, turn into more night stands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:29:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25063174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoU2019/pseuds/SoU2019
Summary: Ed glared at him. “Fuck off.” He hunched his shoulders and glanced around the barricaded street. “You sure they won’t reopen the station soon R--Mustang?” Ed mentally slapped himself, it was Mustang, not Roy.(The trains are down, and so Ed is forced to join Roy on a road trip.)
Relationships: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Series: Royed OTPoly 2020 SoU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815196
Comments: 17
Kudos: 111
Collections: RoyEd OTPoly 2020





	He's a Little Fellow, Four Foot Tall

**Author's Note:**

> This has been written as part of the RoyEd OTPoly game. The prompt was 'Road Trip with 3 songs'  
> Fuery set up the car radio b/c those didn't exist till the 1930's, and the music referenced is New World Symphony, Five foot two, eyes of blue, and Snooky Ookums.

“No.”

“It is not like we have much of a choice, Fullmetal.”

“I don’t care!” Ed said. “I am NOT going to spend that many hours in a car listening to your bullshit!”

“My  _ bullshit _ ?” Mustang asked.

“AKA everything that comes out of your mouth.”

“Dear me, at least I hope that my breath doesn’t smell.” Mustang said with feigned worry.

Ed glared at him. “Fuck off.” He hunched his shoulders and glanced around the barricaded street. “You sure they won’t reopen the station soon R--Mustang?” Ed mentally slapped himself, it was Mustang, not Roy. He was Fullmetal, the Bastard was Mustang, he couldn’t let himself forget that. It didn’t matter that a few days ago they’d spent a night together as simply ‘Ed’ and ‘Roy’. That was in the past. It was over.

Mustang sighed, “I am positive. General Mwindo has made that quite clear. The bomb threat is being taken seriously.”

“Can’t we just drive to the next town and catch a train there?” Ed asked, slightly desperate.

The Brigadier General shook his head, “No, there won’t be any trains running. We can’t afford to delay this meeting, and we can’t be sure that the trains will be running tomorrow.”

He was right. They couldn’t afford to delay this meeting any longer. Grumman’s most recent peace treaty with Creta had required a slight change due to some minor troubles with the trade of wheat, so rather than call another meeting with the leaders of the Cretan government, Grumman had decided to send Roy Mustang. If Ed had ever been lucky Grumman would have decided to send literally any other general under his command, but _ nooooooooo _ it had to be Brigadier General Roy-Fucking-Mustang. It would have been fine if the Cretan Federation wasn’t made up of a bunch of paranoid dicks, but since they _ were _ a bunch of paranoid dicks, they had to insist on receiving no more than two representatives in their capital city because of ‘security reasons’. Ed had thought he was safe, but Hawkeye had refused to go (just like everyone else) and so Mustang had turned pleading eyes on Ed and he had begrudgingly agreed on the condition that, for the duration of the trip, Mustang buy him all the food he could physically stuff into his body.

Earlier that year he had taken the newly built train route from Creta to Central, and it had been a relatively easy trip, but it had taken forever, and he had no interest in repeating the experience. Unfortunately he was always incredibly unlucky, and his stupid decision to rejoin the military had lead him here. It had been agreed that he would meet up with Mustang in front of the station, and they would get a fancy military train car to take them straight to Creta. The problem with that plan was that Ed had been involved, and whenever Ed was involved there was usually an endless list of problems that inevitably ruined everything. This time Ed’s presence had guaranteed that all the trains of the west and southern Amestris had been forced to cancel their trips because of a bomb threat that had been called in a mere hour before Ed had shown up to a barricaded street. A certain sweet-talking general, who was being swarmed by reporters, charmed his way out of the hordes and had swaggered over to Ed to explain the situation. Of course the Bastard had a plan, and it was a terrible plan.

“Fine. Where did you park?” Ed asked.

“Just down the street,” Mustang said. “I arrived a few minutes before the barricades went up so it's not very far.”

“If you get us killed, Al will come back from Xing and desecrate your corpse.”

“I will do my best to ensure we make it to Creta alive.” Mustang said.

“You’d better. Your driving sucks,” Ed said as he swung the door of the car wide open. “I can’t afford another automail limb. If we crash and I lose my arm again, I will take your arm and get it alchemically attached to me.”

“The military would cover the cost of your surgery and automail.” Mustang said.

Ed rolled his eyes and jumped into the car. “It's not the money. It's that I can’t take another hit on the head from a wrench without some permanent brain damage. I don’t think the military can get me a new skull when Winry is done with me.”

“I see your point. Maybe you should wear a helmet whenever she is around.” Mustang said as he settled in the driver’s seat.

“As if that would work!” Ed snorted, “Winry has always been good at sneaking around. I could go around wearing a mattress on my head when she’s around, but the moment I think she is gone, and I take it off, she’ll get me.”

Ed grimaced at the vague memory of the summer when Winry had decided that dipping a sponge in icy cold water and then sneaking around until she could lob it at him, was the best thing ever. He shuddered as the memory of cold water dripping down his neck resurfaced, and he forced himself to think of warmer, happier things. 

Mustang started the car, and Ed began to settle in for the longest car ride ever, when something caught his eye.

“Hey, what's that?” Ed asked as he pointed at the box thing with wires that sat on the floor.

“Take a guess.”

Ed bent over and inspected it. The bumpy road made it difficult to study the box, but he soon realized that the top of the box was on hinges, and could be lifted to expose a few dials.

“Is this a radio?” Ed asked in astonishment.

Mustang glanced down at him briefly, “Yes. Fuery was testing it as a concept, and I think he is going to try and patent the idea.”

The closer Ed looked, the more impressed he became. “Hey there’s a battery and everything! Where are the speakers?”

“There is one installed underneath the dash on my side, and one on yours. He says he would like to get four speakers, but the battery simply can’t sustain it at the moment.”

“That’s fucking awesome!” Ed said. “Can we blast music while we drive?”

The Brigadier General shook his head. “No. This is  _ my _ vehicle and I absolutely refuse to listen to anything you consider ‘good music’ at anything higher than 30 decibels.”

“Awwww! Come on Mustang! Fuery’s speakers can go as loud as an airship engine! Anyways we’d have to have it very high just to be able to hear it above your stupid car.”

“Not a chance. My vision has never fully recovered since Dr. Marcoh healed me, and I am not interested in damaging my hearing any further. I do not want to die deaf and blind.”

Ed slammed back into the seat with a pout. “Party pooper.” he complained.

He leaned back in the seat, propping his head up on the headrest and looking out onto the streets of Central. The cloudy sky matched the greyness of the buildings they were driving past. The townhouses turned into suburbs, and the suburbs turned into farms. It was too early in the day to try and pick a fight with Mustang, and really Ed didn’t know what else to do with the man seated beside him. The last time they’d had a conversation that hadn’t involved some sort of an argument they’d been at the bar doing shots as part of Havoc’s birthday celebrations. At some point Mustang had said something about his life while studying at the Academy, and Ed, who sat beside him, had laughed and asked if it was too late for him to go back because he had clearly not learned anything the first time he had gone. Somehow the conversation had devolved into stories about drunken escapades like the time Maes had gotten locked in the women’s washroom.

Ed had been drinking some really nice cocktails all evening, and he hazily remembered letting his guard down and doing what he would never have had the balls to do sober; he let himself sit pressed up against his C.O. They were in a booth, and with 10 people crowded around the table, it didn’t appear unusual to anyone else, but Ed could see Mustang glancing at him from the corner of his eye. 

Ever since he had rejoined the military, Ed had guarded his personal space like a treasure. It wasn’t that he didn’t like having people near him, it was that Mustang had developed a habit of leaning up close to him, and Ed could not handle that. Mustang had never had that problem before, but ever since Ed had returned, he had taken nearly every opportunity to stand close to him, lean on his desk, and sit beside him at every chance he was given. Ed couldn’t take it. He’d ignored his stupid crush for years, but now that he didn’t have to worry about Al or the homonculi, he had alot more free time to obsess over it. He was a Major in the employ of a Brigadier General. He couldn’t get _ ‘involved’ _ with his obnoxiously attractive C.O even if the attraction was mutual. It was this situation that led him to begin insisting on personal space. He couldn’t just tell Mustang to back off because that would raise too much suspicion, so instead he began to inform everyone of his new found love of a personal bubble. Havoc and Breda teased him about his ‘peoplephobia’ but it soon paid off as everyone (including Mustang) began to unconsciously give Ed more space. No one sat on his desk, no one hovered over him as they tried to fix a sticky key on the typewriter, and no one sat any closer than a hand width apart even in crowded cars after an evening of drinks. Naturally, after months of physically distancing himself from everyone, Mustang noticed when Ed’s inebriated brain decided to press close.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of bright lights, and music, but he remembered Havoc leaving with Rebecca, and everyone else going home, while he was neck deep in some discussion about alchemy with Mustang. They were alone and he really didn’t mind that Mustang used that opportunity to brush away a loose strand of golden hair. Ed had frozen at the contact. Mustang had studied him for a moment before reaching out and covering Ed’s hand with his own. The world had gone silent despite the fact that they were sitting in a dark corner of a rather loud bar, and Ed had forgotten how to breathe.

One thing had led to another, and the next thing he could remember clearly was pushing Mustang against the back of the booth as he tried to cram 8 years of desire into one kiss. They had somehow made it to Mustang’s place without getting arrested from public indecency, and Ed quickly discovered that A) Mustang didn’t have a single fireplace in his whole house, B) It  _ was _ possible for an automail knee to buckle when placed under sufficient pressure—such as being pressed up against the wall while being kissed senseless—and C) It was indeed possible to cum so hard you black out.

Ed didn’t regret the night, but he did regret staying until morning. He had slipped out before Mustang woke up, but that didn’t change the fact that he didn’t know what to say to him. The awkwardness ate at him all through the weekend, until Monday finally came around and Ed realized that Mustang was acting as if nothing at all had happened. Ed didn’t mind, he knew how one-night-stands worked, and he wasn’t about to drop to his knees and beg for the Bastard’s hand in marriage, but it still hurt to know that whatever had happened didn’t mean anything to Mustang. It had been 5 days, and Ed still couldn’t decide if the whole thing had been the best experience of his life or the most painful. He was accustomed to physical pain, automail was not a pain free solution, but emotional pain was worse. He had thought that Riza would have accompanied Mustang on this stupid mission, especially after that whole thing, but apparently the universe still hated him and wanted him to suffer. Well luckily for him, he was still feeling a bit tired from having to get up so early that morning, and the universe couldn’t piss him off if he was asleep.

-

He wasn’t sure what woke him up. It might have been the bumpier road, the sudden swerve, or maybe the godawful lame-ass shit playing on the radio.

“What the hell are you listening to?” Ed asked as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes.

“Music. I thought that it would be obvious.” Mustang replied.

“I knew you were old Mustang, but I figured you couldn’t be  _ that _ old.”

The car swerved again as Mustang gave him an offended look. “It’s Dvorak! Even you must have heard his New World Symphony.”

Ed scoffed, “You know we can record voices right? You don’t have to listen to your grandma’s orchestral productions.”

“I can’t even begin to list everything wrong with what you just said.” Mustang said in a horrified monotone.

“Look,” Ed said as he reached down and fiddled with the dial. It took a minute, but soon the clear tones of Paul Robinson filled the car. “The magic music machine make talk-talk noise.” Ed turned to look at Mustang and saw the look of mild disgust on his face.

“Jazz? Really Ed?” He asked.

‘ _ Ed _ ’ The last time that word had left Mustang’s mouth had been moments before...Ever since then it had only been ‘Major’ or ‘Fullmetal’ hearing his name in that voice sent his mind careening back to that night in the Bastard’s bed.

He swallowed hard and shook all those thoughts out of his head. “Fuck off.” He said, thankfully managing to sound normal.

“What radio station is this?” Mustang asked.

“It’s the hits station, they play popular music. Jazz is really popular in Creta, I’ll bet you won’t be able to escape it once we get there.”

“Wonderful.” Mustang said sounding like he meant the exact opposite.

“What’s your problem with Jazz?” Ed asked.

“I find that it puts me to sleep. I’m driving, so sleeping isn’t exactly something I want to do at this moment.”

“Clearly you haven’t been listening to the new stuff. I have a friend in Creta who has been playing with a band for a few years, and they’ve been getting alot of attention.”

“I don’t make a point of liking something just because it is popular.” He said, unconvinced.

“It’s not my fault you have no taste.” Ed said. He frowned as the song ended, and a new one that he didn’t recognize began.

_ Five foot two, eyes of blue _

_ But oh, what those five foot could do _

_ Has anybody seen my girl? _

_ Turned up nose, turned down hose _

_ Never had no other beaus _

_ Has anybody seen my girl? _

Mustang laughed.

Ed growled, “If you so much as open your mouth Mustang, I’ll bury you over in that field.” Ed pointed out of the windshield towards the wide expanse of farmland that surrounded them.

Mustang only laughed harder. Ed reached for the radio dial but his hand was swatted away.

“Leave it, I like this song.” the Bastard said. “I like hearing about unusually compact people who are disproportionately powerful.”

Ed smacked his shoulder. It wouldn’t bruise, but the Bastard winched, so that was something.

_ Five foot two, eyes of blue _

_ But oh, what those five foot could do _

_ Has anybody seen my girl? _

_ Turned up nose, turned down hose _

The song ended about 10 seconds before Ed decided that crashing the car was the only way to escape this personal hell. Mustang was about to open his stupid mouth when Ed realized what song was going to play next.

“Shut up,” Ed threatened. “I like this one.”

Mustang clearly decided that whatever stupid comment he was about to make was not worth the instant death that Ed was prepared to give him, and obligingly kept his mouth shut.

_ All day long he calls her _

_ Snooky ookums, snooky ookums _

_ All they do is talk like babies _

_ She's his jelly-elly roll _

_ He's her sugey-ugar bowl _

_ Here's the way they bill and coo _

_ Poogy woo, poogy woo, poogy woo _

Ed laughed, “Reminds me of Havoc and Rebecca.”

Mustang grimaced. “Reminds me of Hughes and Gracia. You met them  _ after  _ they had been married for a few years, being around them before they got married was absolutely unbearable.”

“Yeah, I believe that.” Ed said, “I’m glad I didn’t have to deal with that. I can barely handle the way Al talks about Mei in his letters.”

“I am sure that he is in no way nearly as obnoxious as Hughes.” Mustang said, his gaze fixed on the road.

_ If you ever heard their mushy song _

_ If you saw how well they get along _

_ You would bet your life _

_ That they weren't man and wife _

_ He's a little fellow, four foot tall _

_ Weighing just a hundred clothes and all _

_ She's a great big lady _

_ Weighs a hundred eighty _

“Well.” Mustang said, “They do say that opposites attract.” There was a pause, and Ed knew the insult was coming even before Mustang turned to look at him. “So, when are you going to find your ‘ _ great big lady’? _

5 years ago Ed would have punched him in the face.

“Har Har.” He scowled, “You are lucky you are driving Asshole.”

There was a mischievous glint in Mustang’s eyes, and Ed really wanted to knock his teeth out.

“Are you saying that you are more than 4 feet tall?”

Ed turned his best unimpressed stare at the Bastard masquerading as his C.O. “I’m going to send Al and Mei over to your place whenever they decide to come back, and they’ll stay until they have rotted every last tooth in your mouth with their stupid sweet pet-names.”

Mustang laughed. “I am not quite sure that anything like that would be possible. After all, I’ve been told that I am significantly worse than Hughes when it comes to pet-names. To continue to use your tooth metaphor, it is impossible for sugar to destroy teeth  _ made _ of sugar.”

Ed paled at the thought of Mustang’s stupid huge vocabulary being used for the singular purpose of inventing pet names. Abort,  _ ABORT! _

“Well then, good thing I left before I had to deal with that bullshit.” He said.

He hadn’t even finished speaking when he heard a voice in his head yelling at him to shut up and that this was a massive mistake. Fuck. The comfortable atmosphere of a minute ago dissipated, and was replaced with cold hard lead. 

Ed cringed as his own words echoed in his head, what was wrong with him?! Why would he say that!? His eyes flickered over to Mustang whose face was impassive, but his hands were clutching the steering wheel way too hard, the cheery melody that filled the air was in stark contrast to the tension between the two of them.

“Is that why you left?” Mustang asked, his face frozen in a placid stare.

Ed looked down at his hands that were clenched tightly at his sides. He wanted to say ‘yes’ and redirect this conversation, he wanted to go back in time and tape his stupid mouth shut, he wanted to smack that placid look off of Mustang’s face.

“No.” was what came out of his mouth. “I-I don’t know why—I shouldn’t have stayed, I should have gotten a ride or something instead of sleeping at your place.”

Mustang’s face remained hidden behind the mask, but he flicked a quick glance over at Ed. “Why? If I remember correctly, I was the one who suggested you stay.”

Ed nearly choked as he tried to swallow. “I dunno, I figure people don’t—I shouldn’t have—if it meant--.” The word ‘nothing’ crumbled to ash on his tongue before he could get it out. He shouldn’t have stayed the night if the encounter meant nothing. He should have picked up his clothes, and slipped out with the scraps of his dignity, not stayed in the hopes that he’d wake up to waffles, and a fucking engagement ring. He was a fucking idiot.

“I was—disappointed to see that you had left. I was concerned that I had done something wrong.” Mustang said.

“No!” Ed said emphatically, “No, it was fine—well it was pretty great actually—you did nothing I didn’t want to do, I just didn’t want to bother you.” He planted his feet on the seat and drew his knees up to bury his face in the shelter that they provided. The angle stretched his neck in a way that was more uncomfortable than it had been in years past, and the bumpy road made it difficult to keep his position, but he had been forced into the confines of this car, and there was nowhere else to hide. 

There was a grinding of metal, and Ed peeked just long enough to realize that Mustang was shifting gears, and pulling on to a small side road that looked like it hadn’t seen any vehicle other than a tractor in the entirety of its existence. Before he could ask what the hell he was doing, Mustang parked the car, and turned off the engine.

Ed hugged his knees closer, he didn’t want to do this.

“Full--Ed,” Mustang said, and Ed could hear his clothes rustle and could feel the seat shift as Mustang repositioned himself, presumably to see him more clearly. Ed didn’t look up.

“I had thought it was obvious, but clearly I miscalculated.” Mustang sighed, “Ed, what happened on Friday wasn’t a spur of the moment decision, I had been contemplating the best way to approach you for quite some time.”

That got Ed’s attention. “ _ What? _ ” He said as he jerked his head up.

Mustang tilted his head in a way that reminded Ed of the cat Al had adopted while recovering in Resembool. “You have changed so much in the years you were away. I was quite taken aback when you returned to Central looking like a man who had finally come into his own. It took me some time to realize what had changed, and it finally occurred to me that you had grown into your confidence. You used to wield your confidence like a weapon, and you used it to shield yourself from censure, but you’ve grown into it and now it has become intrinsic to your nature.” His gaze wavered for a second before zeroing in, back on Ed. “You were so sure of yourself on Friday that it never occurred to me that you hadn’t realized--Ed, when I asked you to stay the night, I didn’t mean just that one time.”

Ed stared at him, his grip on his legs loosening letting his feet return to the floor.

“What did you mean then?” Ed asked, “Do you want to be friends with benefits or some other shit?”

Roy gave a faint smile. “‘ _ Some other shit’  _ sounds acceptable.”

“Oh, Fuck _ Off _ !” Ed exclaimed as he thumped his fists on the seat in frustration. “Could you be a bit more specific?”

“Well, for the sake of clarity then.” Mustang leaned forward, “Ed would you like to date me? I’ve thought of nothing but you for months, and I would very much like to keep it that way.”

Ed blinked, and blinked again a bit harder. “Really?” he asked, as his brain tried to rearrange his understanding of the universe. It shouldn’t be possible for someone like Roy to be interested in someone like him, and yet here they were.

“Cross my heart.” Roy said.

It was impossible to look away from those dark eyes, and Ed found himself closing the space between them, and pressing the word ‘yes’ onto Roy’s lips.


End file.
